One Word
by Lacey52
Summary: Relationships or feelings, of any type, all based off of one word.  No set pairs, no boundaries, not all reciprocated.
1. Analysis

_**Analysis  
**_By Lacey52

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

_Note_: Okay, so these one shots are all based on one word and one couple each. It can be anyone, and I'm serious when I say anyone. Some of them are mutual, some of them are one-sided, and some of them are just plain wrong in the worst way. You'll just have to wait and see though.

This came as a request from Chaotic Pink Chocobo and is based off of the thirty romances, or thirty kisses, or whatever, but I've changed it to suit my purpose...so if you recognize the words I'm using, don't hate me too much, lol. Since it was a request from her, I'm doing her requested couple first.

Any one got anymore couples, no matter who they are, I'll try and make them work….but there won't be any lemons so don't ask. I have, at present, 24 slots open for couples, so let me know!

Not sure if this was what you were looking for but here it is! Love ya' Chocobo!

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

Couple: Jazz Fenton and Clockwork  
Rating: K+  
Genre: Introspective in two perspectives.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

It used to be so simple. Everything had it's place and a reason and a how and a why and well, there was logic.

This? There was no logic to this and the more that she thought on it the worse it tangled itself. When you analyzed something, you either found the right answer or you found the wrong answer, but at the very least you found an answer.

Now, there was no answer. No logic, no reason, no how or why or even a category to place it in. It was frustrating to no end and she knew that were she to share her thoughts with anyone they'd gently chide her.

'Love,' they would tell her, 'is not something that is logical. It just is.'

To hell with that, she wanted to analyze it. Why was she attracted to him and vice-versa? How did their relationship truly work out? Did it matter that the man she was actually in a relationship should technically not be there because he was an otherworldly entity?

That, too, frustrated her…but not as much. Her little brother, after all, was half of a ghost, so she supposed that it wasn't too far of a stretch to believe that ghosts were real and capable of being in romantically involved relationships.

And if she was going to allow that much, which she already had for the past few years as it was hard to ignore or explain away all the past happenings surrounding Amity Park and her brother, she might as well allow for love.

It wasn't logical or reason based. It didn't have a how or why or a place. She couldn't analyze it.

And damn it if it didn't drive her nuts, until he would appear out of thin air and inquire about her day and kiss her gently and all her thoughts would just melt away…and suddenly she couldn't quite remember just what she had been thinking about.

It couldn't have been that important anyways.

And that was just the way he liked it. She thought far too much and didn't let things just happen. Planning was all well and good, but he hadn't spent centuries and days and seconds and months, all in one go as he was outside of time of course, without learning a thing or two.

'Love,' she would think, 'has to have a reason behind it. Ghost surely have an explanation of some sort, I just don't know enough to discover it. Love, however, is from the mind, and I can understand that.'

Poor thing, she just needed to let it happen, and so he kissed her. The first time he had done so was because she was trying to figure out the logistics of being in a relationship with a ghost…or rather an entity, as he wasn't quite an actual 'ghost' by strict definition.

Just like the first time, just like every time in the past, the time now, and all the times that he knew would occur in the future, she relented and just let things happen as they would.

Analysis had never been a major part of his life until she came along. Now he was figuring out what she was thinking and how to make her stop fretting. Not that her fretting was bad…nor was it not adorable.

She just did it too often and didn't pay enough attention to the now. Now happened to be his favorite out of the three he lived in at every moment. Mainly because she was in it. And that was his bit of analysis on the situation for the day.


	2. Memory

_**Memory  
**_By Lacey52

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

_Note_: This one is **_seriously sad_**, in that bittersweet way, so heed the warnings ya'll. The characters are adults, more than likely married, or soon to be, but something has happened and now only one is left…

Enjoy if you can.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

Couple: Sam and Danny, much older

Rating: M, definitely

Genre: Angst, slight hint of Tragedy, and Romance

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

Hot nights. Sleepless nights.

_Tangled sheets, tangled bodies, tangled thoughts, and cobwebs between it all as the moments break against one another and the night catches up to the day._

And, oh God, she remembers it all.

_Whispers, hot whispers against her neck and on her ears and over her skin, and hands on her body, and her fingers finding sweat and places she never had before, and it was so hot and everything was so twisted, but she didn't care and neither did he._

Restless nights, soggy nights, cloudy nights, moonlit nights, all the nights in the world, and for each one there is a moment, a memory, and it is branded on her body, on her tongue, on her face, on her heart, on her hands. But it is the hot nights that always call to her the strongest.

_Fire branded touches, and emblazoned fingertips, and scorching palms running against her thighs and her stomach, the intensity in those eyes glowing, blue or green, it never mattered, it only mattered that he was there, that he was with her, that they loved._

Every line, every muscle or sinewy slick of skin was known to her, and still is, and even though it fades as she ages, its shadow is still there.

_Cold and hot, air swirling over and around, and the tangle just kept getting worse and worse, the webs catching and pulling and snapping in the passion, one moment blurring to the next, as harsh words, gentle words, kind words, painful words rubbed her heart raw._

The phantom feeling is still there.

_Feeling, always feeling, always laughing and loving and living in the moment, and touching and enjoying and reveling in the feeling of an eternity that was a lie, that would never be, could never be, that was taken from her in a swift killing stroke of time._

The memories fold and unfold, one atop the other, bringing smiles and tears and love and heartache and a thousand, thousand feelings and thoughts to her. It is always there, always playing in her mind, always bringing that secret look out from the corner of her mouth, or the lines beside her eyes.

_Pure adrenaline, feelings of flying, though they'd both flown before, never wanting to come down, never wanting to leave, never wanting to move, except for to dance again, the sensuality of the moment, serene and surreal, and sweet in only they way it could be between the two._

But always, always it is a phantom of what it was. The feeling isn't real, the remembered words aren't quite right somehow, and the touches and sounds are so dull and distant that she can never catch what she desperately needs.

_Deeper and deeper into their own creation, and then they are lost, darker and darker, forever swirling around them in a lie that kills one, but ends both, and as they are together it gets so hot, so desperately hot, and the ache and need grows, the thirst for whispers and fire hot hands and the taste of sweat, it is a never ending cycle and she can't help but want more of life, more of love, more of him._

And on hot, sleepless, and achingly dark nights, she remembers…oh, she remembers.

_Tangled, so tangled, hot and flushed, ready to love, ready to take, ready to give…and it's all over as soon as it starts, as soon as it blooms, and the moment, the memory that she finds herself so lost in becomes her reality in the dark, where the want is quenched for a time, only to return hotter and darker than any night she faces._

God, how she remembers her nights with him…


	3. Strings

_**Strings  
**_By Lacey52

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

_Note_: Okay well, getting back to actually writing what people wanted me to…this one's for Fanficaholic. I wonder if you even remember requesting this one…ah well, hope you enjoy it!

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

Couple: Tucker Foley and Sam Manson  
Rating: K  
Genre: Slight romance/slight angst.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

They pulled one another along, each holding the other's strings and never realizing it, thinking it was all one-sided. The couple could make their significant other do the craziest things sometimes and all of it was because of the strings.

In the beginning it was Tucker who first came to notice the strange grip Sam had upon him. One look, a fleeting glance, and he would drop whatever he was doing to go to her. To ask what she needed or wanted.

Not that he was always happy with this strange pull. No, far from it as most of the time he was quite discontent. He always would do what she wished, and it was all because he had, for some completely unexplainable reason, fallen head over heels for her. He was convinced that he was mad.

Everyday it was the same, the tug of the strings pulled him wherever she willed and he could do nothing to stop it. He never struggled though, and that was one of the most puzzling things to him.

Why not put up an effort? Why not try to gain some freedom, to gain thoughts that didn't revolve around her? Why, why, why? And the only answer he could find was so simple and terrifying he refused to think about it.

If he tried to break away, maybe she would cut the strings and leave him with nothing to hold him up.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

She never really considered it until she realized how badly she wanted it to happen. Had never thought on it, but had thought of it every second of everyday. Had always pushed herself one way, when in reality she was always pulled the other.

Anything Tucker did was pushed away with sarcasm, with a witty reply, with a shrug and folded arms…and Sam loved it. He would play word games, make fun of her like no one else would, make her think, make her want to hate him…and that made it all the worse because she couldn't.

Best friend, then…what? Sam could never decide, but she could always feel the tug from him to her, as if he held her with strings that she couldn't break…not that she wanted to. She never wanted to loose the tension that he provided, because it was wonderfully constricting.

Sam concluded that she was mad after she had that thought.

Who wanted to be constricted? _You do_, a little voice whispered to her late one night.

Yes, she loved Danny, but Danny didn't hold her strings like _he_ did.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

And so, they pulled one another along, each holding the other's strings and never realizing it, thinking it was all one-sided. They never tried for anything, the pull was so bittersweet and wonderful, they never really had to. It was all there between them, and no one would ever have to know or see. The strings of the puppets, and maybe ties that bind, but never anything more, and never anything less.

Strings were all they had, but in the world of the marionette, 'twas the strings that controlled all.


	4. Stay

_**Stay  
**_By Lacey52

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

_Note_: A long, long time ago Jack Inqu…whom I'm not sure goes by the same name anymore…requested a Ember/Dani fic. He said friendship or whatever, and really you can take this as either. I'll just call it a friendship fic because I want to…

.o.O.o.o.O.o.  
Couple: Ember and Danielle  
Rating: K  
Genre: Friendship fic.  
.o.O.o.o.O.o.

My place was trashed. Some ghost who got too big for his pants came and decided to try and take me down. Ha, like that could ever happen. I wiped the floor with him…but I wiped my place out too. So I had no where to go, and this kid…this halfa, she just took me in like it was nothin'. Told me her story, how she was used, how she could just die, how she was a clone of that jerk of a dipstick.

When I asked why, all she said was, ''Cause,' and shrugged. She didn't have anywhere to go to or no one either. She said she was just like me…She said the only thing she wanted was for me to remember that she was Danielle. I figured that was pretty ironic since all I wanted was for people to remember I'm Ember.

She followed me around for days before I finally gave in. She was a cute little thing anyways, even if she was a halfa. She worked me over pretty hard too, saying stuff like it'd be nice to have someone to talk to. That she liked my music…understood my songs.

And the funny part was, I really think she did, even though she was so young then. Kinda' sad that a kid that young could be as jaded as I am…

So I figured I'd stay for a while…

…then 'a while' turned into a long time…

Funny how these things work out.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.


	5. Exchange

_**Exchange  
**_By Lacey52

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

_Note_: Oh so short, but look: I really am still alive and writing…just maybe not what you all wanted me to write. Ah well. Enjoy!

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

Couple: Lunch Lady and Box Ghost  
Rating: K for kiddies  
Genre: Romance/slight Humor

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

It was just a flower.

Sitting innocently outside her door, a small pansy of bright yellow and deep, rich purple caught her by surprise that morning. She had been making her way out to do her daily chores, wreck some havoc, and maybe help a few delinquent children see the plight that came from eating unhealthily when it had caught her eye. Sitting there, patiently awaiting her arrival.

It was just a flower, but it made her so very happy.

The best thing was she knew exactly who it was from. He remembered that she loved anything edible and so had sought a way to incorporate both courting and food in this time honored tradition of flower giving. Roses were her favorite, but few people knew that they were edible. Pansies, however, were much more widely known and used. He'd put thought into it, and that brought a smile to her lips.

The next time he appeared at her apartment, another small pansy in hand, she had made him stay outside of her door, his nervous chatter following her back into her home. Coming back out found her handing him a beautifully carved box. She thought he might cry when he looked it over; the exquisite craftsmanship, beautiful coloration, perfect hinges and lock…

That night a knock on her door had her sleepily making her way to open it. There was no one, but she wasn't going to let that fool her. She was a ghost, after all, and so looked cautiously around before stepping out fully to find the disturbance. Up and left and right and then…down.

And there was the box, it's lid partially opened with a few flowers spilling out…and a familiar white powder. Flowers and flour.

She was in love.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.


End file.
